Fiddler's Green
by alicat54
Summary: So this was an odd little idea I had, where after Hell, Dean goes bouncing around the various after live options trying to make his way back to earth. Meanwhile, Castiel is practically pulling out his feathers trying to find the Righteous Man. Unfinished, but don't let that stop you.


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=spn=

Raising children with an awareness of the supernatural is hazardous, and not just because there are monsters out there who would love to snatch up pint sized humans for a snack.

The Campbell family came across on one of the first ships from Holland to protect the inhabitants of New Amsterdam from the unknown beasts of the New World. They were the best hunters in the old world, and crossing the sea only expanded their knowledge and skills.

It was a little known fact that the Campbell family owned the largest library of supernatural rituals, magics, relics, summonings, and histories. That all not including the hundreds of hand written journals of various hunters detailing their crusades against such and such a monster or god.

Young Mary Campbell, who one day in the future will marry a man named Winchester, knew about the hidden library of interesting things under the basement floor. Her parents had expressly forbidden her to ever enter the secret room or touch any of the potentially dangerous things collected there.

Unfortunately children get into everything.

Mary liked to read the scary books, it made what was really out there seem farther away. Things in story books couldn't hurt you.

The thirteen year old didn't want to be a hunter when she grew up, she just wanted to have a safe normal life with 2.5 children and a white picket fence around a middle class house. Her family would never let her go though, and if they did her kids would probably get pulled back into the 'family business'. That's what happened to uncle Jim's kids: one family reunion and her cousins abandoned a normal life to hunt vampires.

It was not until she was browsing a book on the creation of golems written by an old Jewish rabbi that she got an idea.

There are many different types of golems: an artificial life made with will and magic. Usually they're servants made of mud and sticks with little intelligence and only the ability to do menial labor. 'However,' the book said in spiraling script, 'there have been recorded cases of golems made from other base materials, such as flora, fire, and spirit.'

The text then described the symbols and ingredients needed to create a golem, for identification of ritual purposes, and a brief history of why they went out of fashion.

Mary skipped all that boring stuff though.

One quick trip to the kitchen and she had everything she needed for a golem creation ritual.

One of the reasons golem creation went out of style was because the golem only lasts as long as the material it is made out of. It also takes a certain state of mind to give life to the lifeless, making it difficult to the deranged or vengeance seeking individuals to create unstoppable servants. Golems also cannot understand complicated directions, but will follow the wish of their master to the letter.

This is the wish around which Mary wanted to made her golem: "I want to get married and have a normal life, and I want my kids to be safe."

Ritual almost complete the bubble of magic and intentions swirled in the air, ready to take whatever form the ritual maker ordered, but before Mary could direct it into the little mud doll she made and give it its purpose for being, the shed door crashed open.

Her parents were, to put it mildly, greatly displeased at their daughter's foray into supernatural magics. After tanning the girl's hide, they made her perform several cleansing rituals before burning down the shed where she had attempted to bring a golem to life. For good measure, they also had her salt the earth by hand to teach her a lesson.

Mary left the experience with more distain for hunting than ever before. Her parents got better locks for the library door.

The little unformed golem, still without a body but bound to the ritual caster floated in the background, unseen but as a flicker of potential thought.

Until one day, many years later, when Mary entered the correct state of mind: peaceful, calm, easily understood by the drifting golem.

The woman ran a hand over her newborn baby's head and kissed his soft brow. The tiny boy wrinkled his nose and fussed in his sleep. Picking his up, Mary hummed quietly and rubbed circles along her son's back.

"Don't be afraid Dean, angels are watching over you."

Angel watching over you.

Watch over Dean.

Angel's are spirits.

Thus was the golem's form set.

A spirit golem is almost useless for several reasons.

One, it cannot interact with the physical plane. At all. Even a ghost has more power than a spirit golem.

Two, it must bind itself to a place or being, lest it float away and dissolve in the natural energies and magics of the earth and other planes of existence. It relies completely on the thing it attaches to, unable to even leave the vicinity of thing.

Three, if the thing the golem is bound to is a conscious being, the being will have the uncomfortable feeling of constantly being watched. This continues for as long as the golem is attached to the being.

Now here comes the almost.

The only good thing a spirit golem is useful for is as a ferry between the different energy planes of existence. Common planes include heaven, hell, and purgatory. There are also several minor planes held in place by the belief of millions of humans and gods, such as Valhalla, Hades' underworld, and that realm where all the faeries in England went off on vacation to.

Many of these realms were entrance by invitation only (*cough* heaven *cough*), but given proper direction a resourceful golem can make a back door into nearly anywhere.

This golem didn't have such specific directions.

It simply waited, eagerly like an excitable hound for its master's return.

There were many close calls (the golem made great friends with the lady reaper meant to take Dean in the hospital) and one very confusing incident where the golem kept chasing Dean's soul in circles as he was killed and brought back to life and time reset itself.

At last the little spirit golem's time came.

Once Dean's heart stopped beating, the golem followed the brimstone burning hellhounds down into the abyss.

If given the ability the golem might wonder why the being it was charged with following did not simply ask to be moved out of the hell plane. Did Dean want to be tortured? In any case, the golem did not understand the strange workings of anything that was not itself, and couldn't make a move to help Dean until given the ok to do so.

It took a surprisingly long time before Dean wished to be out of hell.

The golem took it as an order. Fueled by purpose and the love of the mother who created it, the golem easily plucked the tormented soul from the bone carved rack and side stepped out of hell.

=spn=

Dean found himself laying spread eagled in a field of grass. Small flowers bobbed beside a waterfall fed river which vanished into the distance.

No fire or demons to be seen anywhere.

"Where am I?" he mumbled, running a hand over his chain bruised wrist.

"Fiddler's Green!" came the unexpected reply.

Dean did not flinch as he turned to see the speaker. It looked like... he didn't actually know what it looked like. If forced into a description would vaguely mention the translucency of a jellyfish mixed with the exuberance of some small feathered animal with big staring eyes.

"How did I get here?" the hunter asked, trying to prioritize his questions. It didn't work. "And what the hell are you?"

The thing jiggled indecisively, as though unsure of what was being said. "Asked. You asked," it chirped. "Watch over Dean. Dean wants to go out of hell, so take Dean out."

The man scratched his head. "And I'm still dead then?"

"Soul! Soul! Soul!" the thing sang, zooming around his head. "I spirit, you soul!"

"Hu, ok. Any chance you can get me back to, uh, earth?"

It jiggled again. "Spirit, soul, spirit, soul," it chanted, as though the words explained everything.

"Hey, calm down!" Dean hushed the thing with a wave of his hands. "I get it, you can't take me back home. Right." He looked around at his surroundings again. "Is there any chance that the guys back in the pit can find me here?"

"Invite only!" the golem chattered smugly. "Sailors, soldiers, dreams."

The hunter lay back into the grass, letting his soul relax for the first time in years. Hell was not a good vacation spot. "I'm going to take a nap," he informed the exciteable thing. "You stay."

Obediently the golem settled beside the stream, giant eyes watching as Dean slipped into sleep.

...

Music danced on the air between his ears, pulling him from the depths of sleep. You couldn't rest at all in hell, so Dean knew he had been out for a while.

...

"It's a golem," she purred, caressing the creature's translucent back. "This kind is useful only after a person has died and can only be given to someone other than the castor, so you don't see very many of them." Purple eyes looked up into Dean's. "Someone must love you very much to make you this little guy."

The memory of his brother's frantic search for a way out of his demon contract flashed into his mind, and Dean huffed under his breath. "Dammit Sammy, you made me a friggin spirit guide?"

He returned his attention to the green skinned woman. "So what does it do?"

"Surely you have determined that for yourself."

Her tone annoyed the hunter. "All I know is that it decided to pull me off the rack in hell."

She met the golem's eyes and smiled. "It saved you because you asked to be somewhere else, and it brought you here. Golems do not differentiate between good and bad, harm or pain, or anything really. This little guy can only do what you ask, no more no less."

"I asked if it could take me home, back to earth, and it short circuited or something."

Her gaze made the hunter feel dull witted. "You are dead and passed on; you cannot go back to the physical world. You don not have a body."

The man shrugs as though it is a minor inconvenience. "Huh, ok. Any idea where I can pick up one of those?"

The woman laughs, light ad cheerful as the wind against cherry blossoms. "I can think of a few being capable of helping you. All are very powerful, but none of them are prone to kindness."

Dean shrugged. "Well I'm not looking for a handout."

She surveyed him critically, a smirk still curling the corners of her lips. "Anything you have of worth to sell, I wouldn't."

"So what would you recommend, sister?"

"I would stay here, and enjoy this paradise." She shifted her shoulders and placed her bow on the fiddle strings, enticing a jaunty guffaw from the instrument. "But you would probably benefit better by leaving, you know, since your still fighting your battle."

"So how do I leave?"

A purple glare shot at him. "Same way you got here." Dean could taste the unspoken 'idiot' in her words.

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So this was an odd little idea I had, where after Hell, Dean goes bouncing around the various after live options trying to make his way back to earth. Meanwhile, Castiel is practically pulling out his feathers trying to find the Righteous Man.

...

...


End file.
